


One Night In Wellington

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-23
Updated: 2003-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:10:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bar was hot, crowded, and loud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night In Wellington

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valuna/gifts).



> 2003 birthday fic for Luna, posted a day late.

The bar was hot, crowded, and loud. He-who-might-be-known-as-Boromir-but-never-on-weekends decided that it would do. A tourist was break-dancing on a sticky table top in the corner and three of the hobbits had gone to investigate. The lone holdout was rediscovering the contents of his breakfast in one of the bathroom stalls. Celeborn was showing Haldir and Legolas just how an elf could get into mischief on a Friday night in the middle of Wellington, and John had escaped to the comfort of antiseptics on his swollen skin. Or, at least, that was what he had claimed. Sean was more of the opinion of a date with a nice bird that had been hanging around Gimli's tent as of late, but was disinclined to press the point. After all, he had his own prey to stalk.

Viggo sat alone at the Fellowship table, sketchpad placed firmly in front of him and pencil making seemingly random marks on it. Sean was certain that Vig was completely focused on capturing the light, or whatever exercises kept him busy in that daft thing day after day, but it wouldn't kill the damned American to have fun for once. If pressed, Sean would say that he was drunk. But the look in Viggo's eyes when Sean snapped his fingers under them was not pressing. It was, actually, rather annoyed. Sean frowned. That wouldn't do.

"Yes, Sean?" Yep. Annoyed. Such a shame, though Vig's lower lip _did_ look rather delicious extended in a pout.

"You. Me. Dance floor."

Viggo inclined his head in a perfect 45-degree angle to his neck and seemed to ponder the idea. Then he shrugged. "Might as well." Strains of some indiscriminate band playing pure dissonance screamed through the sound system, but, amazingly to Sean, no glass was breaking because of it. The song couldn't be that bad, then, he concluded.

The sketchpad disappeared into Viggo's bag along with the charcoal pencil and a sponge eraser. "Good," Sean declared, then pulled Viggo from his seat against the wall. "Our MO is this: first, we get you a new drink, and not some American piss. Proper British beer," Sean found himself having problems with the alliteration, and slowed down, flicking his tongue out from between his teeth to get rid of the taste of them in his mouth. "Don't fret, I'm buying."

"I wasn't," Vig muttered but let himself be led to the bar, where Sean, good to his word, ordered him a pint of British beer. Viggo decided it would be expedient not to mention that he *had* been drinking British beer. The bartender gave Sean a strange look and he and Viggo exchanged understanding glances. There was nothing more harrowing than a bossy inebriated Brit.

"Now we dance."

"You're drunk, Sean," Viggo pointed out helpfully.

"So?" It was Sean's turn to pout. Then he shook his head roughly. "'m too articulate to be drunk. Besides, I _never_ imbibe to the point of oblivion. I'm just...happy."

"Fair enough."

Good, Sean thought. So Americans did indeed know how to surrender. Nice to know. Sean led Viggo by the hand to the middle of the dance floor and then began to gyrate to the music. Viggo aped his movements carefully.

"Come on, Vig. Someone would think you never went to a party."

"Someone would think you're insane."

Sean just laughed. A few songs later, the conversation around them grew to such a point where they could no longer hear each other properly. Sean licked his lips. The moment he had been waiting for.

"I enjoy really violent, perverted, and abusive deviant sex!" A huge grin split across Viggo's face, lighting up Sean's soul. Sean wondered absently what Vig had thought he said, but decided it didn't matter. That grin was enough. "There's nothing better than tying a man up and forcing him to swallow you whole!" Sean reached out and clutched Viggo's hand, holding him close. "Though, being tied up can be fun as well! Being able to do nothing but feel as someone tries to force their dick up your spine inch by inch!"

"I know what you mean!" Vig shouted back.

"But there's nothing wrong with straight vanilla! Bending your legs around someone you trust absolutely with your pleasure and watching their eyes as you be the best lay they've ever had!" Sean licked his lips at some of the memories coming up, and took a quick drink from Viggo's beer. "The best part is always being forced off the bed onto the floor and getting rug burn! That's something you can never explain away!"

"Tell me about it!" Vig paused and then jerked Sean towards him in one quick movement, but didn't lower his voice. "Hey, wanna go for a walk?"

Three hours later, Viggo let Sean out of the makeshift bonds and allowed him to tumble to the floor, to try to support himself on his shaking arms.

"Good?"

"Bloody brilliant," Sean slurred. He found enough energy to raise his head enough to butt it into Viggo's left kneecap. "Now do it again."

Viggo laughed and complied.


End file.
